Fleeing From Death No More
by JakeCrown
Summary: Voldemort feels regret in that train station and passes on to the next great adventure. You guys should beware the madness and brutality of mixing Voldemort and medieval muggles who are, truly, filth. Sadistic brain candy.
1. Chapter 1

I don't know how long it has been that I have been here under this bench. The muggle architecture mocking me. Even in death, their filth haunts me. The brat and the old Fool have long ago passed me onto the next great adventure that I will never take.

Time really has no meaning in the land between life and death. For the first time in a long time, my soul was whole. No anchor to hold the pieces apart from each-other. The barrier to the afterlife is shut to me.

My small physical form has no nerves to feel pain. No heart to beat. No need for food or water. Weak and broken.

An endless existence of boredom. Time to reflect on my mistakes. To remember how it all went wrong. Wallowing self-pity. My emotions stinging with the power of a full soul once more. I had not been able to truly feel since my teenage years. When I made my first mistake.

Putting a piece of my soul into a vulnerable object. Stunting my emotional and mental growth by seeping myself in darkness at such a young age. It was folly. I never had a chance. All the power in the world cannot replace clarity of mind.

I should have strangled Potter with my bare hands. What I wouldn't give to rip the boy's insides out and feed him to Nagini. The thought of her brought tears to my eyes. Emotions are so hard to deal with when you have not felt them in so long.

I forced my self to climb onto the bench and sit upright after what felt like years. No way to tell time here in this place. No sounds other than my own sobs of self pity. Tricked, humiliated, companion-less, penniless, alone. Beaten by a child's blind luck, again and again.

Eons passed.

I grieved for myself alone. I am the only one I ever loved. I have never felt a touch of affection nor a kind word. The things I wished I could have given myself, if I had another chance. The pleasures of the flesh I had killed and mutilated so much of. All the attractive witches I had tortured without a thought to taking my own pleasure from their bodies. The taste of sweets I had ignored. Sports and games to bring me entertainment.

Pitting muggle filth or mudbloods in an arena against half-breeds like centaurs or veela. It would have been great to see. I was more concerned with the big picture. Consumed with negative emotions, like anger and envy.

Too blinded by hatred to truly enjoy the simple pleasures of a little muggle girl screaming as a werewolf chewed her limbs off.

I felt a strange feeling. Like a sinking in my non-existent stomach.

I had forgotten to create a new world rather than take over the old one. I had a chance to make a difference and I squandered it. I betrayed myself. My own pleasures overlooked for need to satisfy my overwhelming hatred. I should have enjoyed myself far more in the far too short life I had 'lived'.

I felt something for the first time...

Regret.

Like the lumos, a light shined from from me. When the light cleared, I has whole once more. I was as young in body than when I had when I first split my soul. Pale white fingers and shoulder length black hair. I felt whole and young again. I could feel my power pulsing under my skin once more.

I sat on the bench and cried in happiness that the love of my life could feel again. My hands ran over my pale flesh and I laughed. I was delighted to hear the sound of a voice, other than the high pitched scratchiness of the broken souled form I had been for so long.

A sound for the first time in eons.

A train horn. The Hogwart's Express was making it's way to the platform in front of me. The engine slowed as it passed me. The last carriage stopped in front of the bench.

I was allowed to leave this place? After so long?

I stood for the first time in ages and made shaky steps to the opening carriage door. White light poured through the crack as the door slowly opened. I used my shaking hands to pull it the rest of the way open. I took the step onto the train and into the white.

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	2. Chapter 2

As the white clouded my vision, a hand reach through. The hand grabbed my... tunic? Confusion and fear wrestled in my mind for the first time in eons. Memories started filing into my well organized library of my mind. The train vanished and in it's place was a stone room. A blond man with a girlish face looked at me with a grimace.

A pretty and naked blond muggle woman looked at me over his shoulder with panicked eyes. "Kill him Jamie!. He saw us!" She hissed. She had the nerve took look me in the eyes.

I took the invitation and went through the muggle's mind like a battering ram through castle gates.

_Kill me? The little bitch..._

I learned her secrets. Petty jealousy and lust. She thought herself powerful. A great and powerful Queen among men. Fears of a prophecy coming to fruition. She would fit right in with the purebloods if she had but a drop of magical blood in her. She knows of no wizards. They must have a statue of secrecy here too.

Why would wizards need to hide from weak muggles like this? No firearms or bombs. Ne electricity or plumbing. Not even the ability to tell time.

I was distracted from the filthy mongrel holding on to me that I didn't notice his plan. I felt his grip tighten and I switched my view back to him. His head was turned. I can't get into his mind wandlessly without direct eye contact.

"The things I do for love." He spoke facing Cersei. He turned his head back around to look at my pissed off face. I saw his plan the instant his eyes met mine. I reached into my core and started a spell I knew well enough to use without a wand.

"Cru."

The air became cooler with a sharp wind rushing by my head. The muggle had pushed me off a tower. I pulled on my core differently and twisted. My new body dissolved into wisps of black smoke.

_Ghosting..._

The ability to ghost resided in the soul. Like the animagus transformation, it was a part of your soul. I had developed the ritual to grant the ability by ritualistically sacrificing my animagus form into an undead construct of pure necromantic power. I had taught my best Death Eaters and Snatchers the ritual to sacrifice their own animagus forms as well.

I really didn't need the ability to turn into a parrot very much.

The twisting black smoke floated it's way up the tower. My mind worked on processing the new memories of this place 'Winterfell' and this world. The memories of my 'Family' and Direwolf. I felt another connection to my soul, similar to the one with the Potter brat.

I would investigate it after I dealt with these filthy muggles.

"Crucio!"

The blond man started shrieking loudly. He writhed on the ground in unspeakable agony. His spasming sister joined him on the floor. Soundless screams on their twisted faces as their bodies contorted and bent, trying to escape the unrelenting pain.

I released the female from the spell. On the male, I doubled the power. He started convulsing, blood gushing from his ears and nose. His tongue poked out of his lips and got bit off by the convulsions. I doubt he noticed that he had lethally maimed himself.

She female cried, curled up in a ball from the brief taste of magical power. She looked up at me through wild blond hair with a look of fear and loathing. "Please, stop. I'll do anything." She hissed with pained breath.

I smiled down at the muggle filth below me.


	3. Chapter 3

Yes... I am an evil bastard to even have such thoughts as these. I shall write them anyway, because it is what I want to read. Hopefully some other writers out there will take note and start writing some evil thoughts of their own. Then we shall both be entertained.

I you haven't read A Song of Ice and Fire you might be very confused when reading this. I suggest you read the books. They are thicker than the Holy Bible and far more realistic and entertaining.

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"You believe you have something of value?" I hissed at the blond filth that is, I now remember, the Queen. Her brother and lover convulses on the floor of the broken old tower. I feel his soul starting to leave his body and absently anchor it to his quivering form.

"Anything you want. Anything." She implores wetly through her blubbering. The snot and tears mix with the perspiration of sex and slide down into her cleavage. Covered in dirt from rolling around in contortions of agony on the broken tower's floor, she was proof of concept.

"Muggle filth. You are not fit to live. Much less are you fit to rule these lands. I will spare your life this time. In return for my generosity, I will take your will. I explained. Her expression was somewhere between terror and absolute despair. Her expression soon went blank as the Imperious curse took effect.

Had she been magical, in a few decades she might have been able to begin resisting. As a muggle, the curse will last until I decide to let her die. Which may be sooner than she expects. Her husband's reign will not last much longer.

I walked over to her brother and pried the dying man's eyes open. It was starting to strain my new body's magical core to keep his soul in his body. I delved into his mind quickly. His mind was falling apart quickly. I drew his knowledge of the world into myself as quickly as I could. Ripping and tearing through his thoughts and memories, I felt his brain begin to liquefy.

I took all of his secrets. How disgusted he was with King Robert. How he loved his sister. How he loved his brother. His false sense of superiority over others. How he had raped a few peasants. How he murdered some bandit captives. How he resented his father.

Fucking useless. I summoned his heart and one of his ribs out of his twitching body. I released the necromantic power I had been pooling inside of him to keep him alive. His body began to age and then decompose rapidly. Bellatrix had fashioned herself a similar wand after I released her from Azkaban.

My mind's magic felt the anguish of the Queen pounding stronger than ever. I glanced over at her as I began making a very substandard wand out of the muggle's rib and heartstrings. Her face was a serene mask that would never again show any emotion that I did not desire it to express. I sent a cleaning charm at the filthy thing and repaired her ripped clothing with a flick of my new wand.

"Get your clothes on and go about your life as if none of this ever happened. I will give you new orders as needs arise." I said. I was deep in thought as my newest slave bowed with a 'Yes Master' and departed the broken old tower. There are so many options. I searched my own memories and the emotions attached to them.

I watched my life from birth. Memories of affection and, dare I say, love for my family. I had not felt emotions in a long time. The feelings were...

Pleasant.

I did not want to cut myself from them anytime soon. There was another feeling that I craved. It overwhelmed all the cravings for others. I want to be …

Loved.

I want to be admired. I want to be adored and worshiped. I never want the feelings to end. I cannot remember ever feeling this way in my past life. The orphanage was not a kind place to mature. Even though my new family were muggles, I did not wish them to die. My will to dominate was as powerful as ever, however.

There is no Ministry of Magic. No Statue of Secrecy. The muggles here are well aware of magic. Dragons had roamed this world in the open as they did in the days of old in my old world.

I moved my mind along the connection I felt attached to my soul and was attacked by a powerful mind. Who was this/ Potter? I battered away the tendrils of primitive legillimancy attack and focused the might of the most powerful wizard to ever exist.

Potter could have defeated this attack. I used my power to open the soul's connection wide and dived through.

Thoughts of a man. A word...

Greenseer.

I delved deeper into the man's mind. His power was no match for my own. A name...

Brynden Rivers.

A history of his life. The life of a legitimized bastard of the King. The first Blackfyre rebellion. Serving as Hand of the King. Twenty years of war and politics. Betrayal. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

The Others. Creatures of great necromantic power. Moving slowly over centuries instead of days. A power...

Warg. Primitive possession that is unworthy of the very name, 'possession'. As infantile in comparison as a muggle bow of this world to the atomic bombs dropped in my youth.

I saw his plans for me and began to laugh.

Lord Voldemort... Bran Stark... A cripple, tied to the roots of a tree. Utterly preposterous.

I pulled out of the Bloodraven's mind with a jerk and opened my eyes. It had only been seconds since the Queen had left my presence. Battles of the mind happen in the blink of an eye.

My mortal, for now, form twisted and became intangible as black smoke clouded me. The began swirling and drifted down out of the window of the tower. Jamie Lannister's rotted remains lay as nothing more than a pile of dust atop a pool of blood on the tower's floor. I incorporated myself next to a whining wolf cub. "Good boy, Nagini. Lets go to the kitchens. I'm hungry" I said as I tucked the curved rib full of muggle's heart into my belt.

I gave Nagini's head a stroke and headed to the kitchens.

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End file.
